Keep holding on
by HotchTitch
Summary: Hotch hates the cold. A quick one-shot set during Exit Wounds, season five.


**Disclaimer: **You know how this usually goes. I don't own any of it etc**  
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**Notes:** A purely platonic relationship between Hotch and Rossi, set during the episode Exit Wounds. I hope you enjoy it :) /

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Once Garcia had claimed Morgan as her rooming partner, the rest of the room assignments had fallen into place. JJ with Prentiss, Reid by himself (everyone knew he moved way too much when he slept) and Hotch with Rossi. It was how the pairings usually ended up when there were fewer rooms on offer than there were members of the team.

"Everyone get some sleep, we'll need fresh eyes in the morning," Hotch said, pushing open the door to their bedroom. There was no doubt that it was smaller than what they were used to, but it was more homely. It was their second night in Alaska and Hotch certainly hoped it would be their last. Alaska was definitely one of the more beautiful places that Hotch had been, but he couldn't for the life of him stand the cold.

"I'm going to grab a shower. Do you want one?" He asked Rossi as the elder agent shut the door behind them and sat down on the bed in order to remove his shoes.

"No, I'm good. Feel free to use up all the hot water so you don't keep me awake like you did last night with all of your shivering," he said, not bothering to hide the smirk.

Hotch removed his tie, all the while glaring at his friend, before he headed into the small en suite. Locking the door behind him, he turned the shower on and waited for the steam to fill the room. That way, he wouldn't need to freeze to death before he could get into the shower (maybe that was a slight exaggeration on his behalf, but it was how he felt.)

Piece by piece, he removed each item of clothing and neatly folded them. Rossi had called him out on that before and Hotch just explained that it made for easier packing. Truth was, he did it every time he took clothing off that wasn't going to go into the wash: a habit that had been beat into him a long time ago.

Goosebumps rose on his arms and legs, the warm steam doing little to fight away the cold.

"Stupid cold," he muttered underneath his breath as he stepped into the shower, beneath the constant stream of scolding water. Usually his showers would last a couple of minutes at most, but he missed the warmth more than he was willing to admit. It was only when the water started spluttering and turning cooler that he decided enough time had passed and he should go to bed.

Using the towel provided, he quickly dried himself and put his boxers and white undershirt back and headed back into the bedroom. Rossi was already under the cover, reading glasses on and seemingly absorbed within the book he was reading. It wasn't a writer he had heard of, so he wasn't going to bother asking him what it was about.

"Do you mind if I turn the lights off? I didn't get much sleep last night as you know," he said as Rossi shook his head, marking the page where he was at and putting it on the bedside table.

"Go for it. It's getting late, anyway." Hotch nodded as his friend removed his glasses and placed them on top of the book. "Hopefully Kat will get some, too," he added, turning the bedside lamp off as Aaron clambered into bed beside him.

"I wouldn't blame her if she didn't. It can't be easy sleeping when there's the possibility you're going to be the next victim of a psychopath," Aaron said as he shifted around, trying to get comfortable.

"Yeah, well... Just get some sleep Aaron, and we'll deal with any fallout in the morning," said Dave as he turned his back on Aaron and closed his eyes. Aaron just nodded and tried to do the same.

When he woke the first time, he noticed the unusual warmth at first. Only, he was still half asleep, so the source didn't really register: he was just thankful for it. Aaron yawned which was followed by a groan as he stretched – or at least he tried to. That was when he realised he was restricted and for a moment, he began to panic.

Only the groan of the man next to him snapped him out of the momentary panic that he found himself in. Forcing himself to breathe, it was clear that he wasn't over Foyet's attack and he honestly didn't think he would be. But it finally dawned on him why he was restricted in his movements. It wasn't because Foyet was coming back to get him (of course he wasn't, the guy was dead) or because someone else had decided to have a go at him. No, it was because of a protective arm holding him close.

Instinctively, Hotch felt himself curl up closer to the older man's chest and close his eyes. The tiniest of smiles played on his lips and for once, it wasn't forced. He felt safe in the arms of the older man, something that he hadn't felt for a long time. And before long, he was asleep in a place where the nightmares wouldn't reach him, at least for that night.

It was then, with his friends arm wrapped around him, that he knew he would never be alone.


End file.
